


The Warm Bed of a Cold Man

by SheSaidMockingly



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, If I see one more wimpy negan I'm going to vomit, Language, Negan (Walking Dead) Swears, Negan Being Negan, Negan Being an Asshole, Negan/OC - Freeform, No redemption, One Shot Collection, Original Character(s), POV Third Person, POV both characters, Strong Female Characters, Sweet but very-"Negan" moments, multi-chapter, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:24:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8618911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheSaidMockingly/pseuds/SheSaidMockingly
Summary: ...His breath burned against the back of her neck. His hand like a smoldering coal wrapped firmly around her waist, pinning her against him .... She wouldn’t have chosen him for herself, not before. She wouldn’t have chosen the barbed club toting creature that could strike down innocence with swift brutality, the man who was so far beyond redemption that only in the rarest quietest of moments did she even for a moment suffer this delusion.... but it wasn't so bad... she was crazy too...





	1. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: 4/9/17  
> I'm taking requests for one shots on these two! Prompts/scenarios accepted, just message or comment!

It was chilling how warm the bed of such a cold man could be.

His breath burned against the back of her neck. His hand like a smoldering coal wrapped firmly around her waist, pinning her against him. It had to be almost evening, the sun was making the room a dull hazy orange, and it almost glowed. She shifted her legs hooking her ankle around the back of his calf, he stirred in response, his muscles flexing to press her against his chest. A warm pair of lips pressed into the most tender point in the crook of her neck, the scruff of his chin scratching at her skin. His fingertips like searing irons gripped her upper arm and she flexed against him instinctively as the caress flirted on the border of pain. She could feel his lips form a smile against her skin, a darkly satisfied hum came from deep in his chest.

“Good morning” His voice was deeply quiet and clear, now that he had pulled himself far enough away from her to be properly heard.

“It’s nearly nightfall” she said flatly

He chuckled a few staccato’d huffs “Well if that ain’t the laziest sass that viper tongue of yours has ever deigned to bless me with.” He drawled, his hand slowly trailed down her side then wound around her waist. She responded with a mildly disgruntled grumble and in one rough motion, he gripped her bare hip and flipped her towards him her pale eyes piercing against his cold dark gaze. 

“Now I know – “ He reached up with a free hand and brushed a few twisted dark locks of hair from her face “- Darlin-“ he offered a mildly sardonic smirk “- that you can’t possibly be expressing some sort of dissatisfaction.” She held his gaze, her eyes finding nothing but disturbing calm and a deeply unsettling sense of foreboding. Familiarity had not bred comfort when it came to spending time with him but she had learned a few things.

She relaxed into his arms, sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck. Her boldness always seemed to intrigue him. He loosened his grip and allowed her more freedom as she drew herself closer to him, watching her quietly. His stillness was a silent dare, his lack of reaction telling her  _ “Go ahead, see what happens” _ taunting her, giving nothing away. She felt like she was approaching a coiled cobra but she pressed on. She brushed one hand along his rough jaw, her fingers slipping from the peppered scruff into his hair, slowly coming closer to him. Still he didn’t move, he simply watched her, though his gaze was becoming less sharp, his lids growing heavier as this vulnerable, defiant creature approached.

“Negan” she whispered, her lips barely brushing against his for a brief moment as they formed his name. He showed no immediate reaction, encouraging her to try harder, to continue. He was forcing her to work at it, to make obvious attempts at pleasing him. She felt the blood rise into her cheeks her face growing hotter. Suddenly her impatience and irritation got the best of her. She hooked her leg around his hip twisting up on top of him. He reacted quickly, pulling her beneath him with her own momentum, pinning her to the bed with his hips. His broad hand ghosted up her side, tracing the finger shaped mottled bruises along her hips pausing for a moment as if in a silent apology. She felt his touch drift up her bare ribs his fingertips slowing to make light lazy spiraling circles at the edge of her breasts.

How he could be all at once intimately violent, distantly gentle, and cruelly sweet had both infuriated and enraptured her, despite her conflicted contempt for him. She wouldn’t have chosen him for herself, not before. She wouldn’t have chosen the barbed club toting creature that could strike down innocence with swift brutality, the man who was so far beyond redemption that only in the rarest quietest of moments did she even for a moment suffer this delusion. When he slept beside her, deep in the night, when bare chested his face relaxed buried in her hair, his hand resting gently on her side; when he cooked eggs over the small hotplate in his room and hummed some old folksong he’d once heard her sing – in these very human moments she saw what he once was. In many ways he was chosen for her, by circumstance, by scars this new world had inflicted on her, and by her own selfish whims. She couldn’t bring herself to think about it too hard or too often, the more she thought about it the more she began rationalized it, and there was nothing rational about him, or about the way she clung to him in her sleep.

She realized she was staring at him. He watched her in return, noticing her thoughtful pause, the tiny crease between her eyes. “Thinkin awfully hard there scooter?” his voice was only mostly mocking as he began to release her. She refocused her gaze on his for a moment then looked away. He smirked then rolled to the side and began dressing. She sat up slowly watching him as he pulled on his pants. One of those gentle, normal moment feelings came over her. She heard him hum a few bars as he ran his hands through his hair to straighten it into place.  He turned and reached for the shirt hooked around the headboard.   
  
He felt a gentle touch at his waist and looked down curiously. She tentatively reached her free hand out to his face and raised herself up on her knees to bring herself closer. She searched his face for some hint of emotion and found it lacking, though he seemed genuinely surprised at her boldness.  He allowed her to pull him closer as she pressed her lips to his, her fingers weaving into his hair.  He barely reacted but didn’t pull away as if considering his participation. She didn’t wait for him to catch up and slid her hand up to rest on his chest and kissing him again, her lips molding to his as she finally felt him return the rare tender gesture. He pulled her to him, his arms slowly winding around her. She caught herself becoming breathless as she began to feel the corners of her consciousness grow hazy and enraptured in his embrace. She could feel the beating beneath his chest quicken, if only slightly. She pressed her fingers into his flesh as if in a weak attempt to cradle his heart in her hand.  He pulled back looking down at her through dark lashes his gaze as affectionate as she had ever seen. That man was quickly gone. In an instant he had untangled himself from her and was halfway across the room slipping on his shirt and shrugging on his jacket.   
  
“I’d get that frisky ass of yours out of my bed.” He said, the darkly jovial tone back in his voice as he twisted a deep red scarf around his neck. “Somebody’s got work to do tonight.” His inflection hinted at some unpleasantness and then he was gone. She watched the door for, the temperature of the room felt as though it had dropped, the light fallen considerably with his absence. He was so consumed by this world that not even a ghost of humanity remained in his wake. He could play at it, she could even draw an intimate moment from him but she had no faith that either of them could truly become human again.


	2. Midnight

The freezing night air felt like pure oxygen as she sucked in deep cleansing breaths, the cold air electrifying her lungs. The moon was bright and full casting a ghostly glow against the light dusting of snow that covered the ground in patches and coated the icy branches of the bare ash trees. She felt the barbed chain-link dig into her flesh through her worn jeans as she leaned her thighs against the waist high fence atop the guard tower, her gloved hands gripping the chilled metal bar as she looked over the edge down at the empty clearing below. It had been quiet lately. Night watch seemed to be an easier task than ever, though for most being banished out into the cold alone had its drawbacks. She loved it, the open air, the relative silence, wide moonlit sky; all of it gave her a sense of freedom and normalcy her life in this new world had always lacked.

"I bet-" His drawling deep voice broke the natural silence "If you lean hard enough, you might just make the prettiest work of modern art down there on that fresh powder." She didn't turn to look at him only leaned back a bit tilting her gaze upwards. "Not sure up is such a good escape plan either." She could hear him drawing closer but still she held fast, refusing to acknowledge him. She heard his footsteps come to a stop as a tall dark figure created a shadow in her panoramic view of the night sky. Letting out a deep sigh and she closed her eyes in a veiled attempt to shut him out.

"God knows there's no escape route out of here." Her tone clipped through the chilly air, a bit more tense than she had intended.

"Aw, ain't that sweet." She rolled her head sideways to look at him, finally granting him the attention he seemed to require. He was smiling but she knew her bland attitude was wearing on him. He only stood for it so long, was only amused for so long before her resistance became insulting instead of a temptuous challenge. She knew she could probably get a few more rebellious hits in before he stopped finding her funny and changed his tune.

"Clear night?" He asked, the business back in his tone, the sound of a fearless leader, his "ruthless-commander" voice.

"Nothing to shoot at." She said kicking at the bow and quiver that lay at her feet.

"Usually, lazy soldiers at least carry their weapons." He noted leaning in as if telling her a great secret. "Makes them look like they're doing something other than sitting around with their thumb up their ass."

"I could arrange the latter if you're so inclined." She offered her gaze locking on his. His grin widened and she knew immediately she'd gone too far.

"You're lucky you're so beautifully fuckable." His voice inched into a chilling laughter at the end. She slowly looked away and straightened to her full height to gaze out into the darkness, still leaning against the rail. He disappeared from her peripheral and she listened as the heavy footfalls of authority circled behind her "Because no one else –" She heard a light tap as he set Lucille down against the wall " – gets away with that shit."

"There's not something else about me that keeps you from bashing me into submission?" She asked, her tone filled with snarky implication, turning her gaze and resting her chin against her shoulder, her eyes downcast she could only see his shadow and boots as he took a few more steps in her direction. The snappish retort came to her lips too quickly and naturally to resist.

"Oh darling, I'd never raise a hand to you. All the little situations we get into are – whatever your feelings towards me seem to be at any given moment– consensual. But you are –" he paused for a moment "something else." She shifted her weight uncomfortably as he approached. She looked forward again as his body aligned with hers against the fence. "And as long as your insubordinate little tantrums are just to me or to that dark abyss you seem so interested in-" he grabbed her by the chin with his leather gloved hand and yanked at her, forcing her to turn around and face him " – no bashing will be necessary."

She met his gaze and he could see the life in her eyes, the burning resilience that captured his attention. There was something about her, about the way she so clearly and openly defied him in private but maintained her loyalty, kept with the program. The tiny moments when she didn't fight him were most perplexing. He knew she could switch back at any time and this little dance fascinated him. Of course he would always grind her back down, quell her rebellion through sheer force if necessary, but he delighted in drawing her in to these brief entanglements.

Suddenly she felt her feet being swept from beneath her. His hand planted squarely in her chest and pushed her backwards, her hands covered only by thin gloves, grasped desperately at the sharp wire fence, the barbs shredding through the fabric and piercing her flesh. She felt the horror of weightlessness, her heart dropping into her stomach and for a brief moment, a disturbing calm. As the breath seemed to leave her lungs she realized she was still. A strong arm wrapped around her waist anchoring her to the body attached to it. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as fresh snow drifted upwards into the branches of the ash trees that now rooted in the sky. Her neck craned backwards taking in her new topsy-turvy world as breath slowly returned to her body in deep dragging heaves.

A bare hand slid up the side of her neck then cradled her head, pulling her out of the new surreal world swiftly and dizzyingly back into reality. He held her up, pulling her close. She finally focused her gaze on his, his eyes were cold but some electric current of madness ran beneath the surface.

"Remember sweetheart –" his lips tilted into a grin as he leaned in, his cheek pressed to hers as he whispered "—the only saving grace here is me." His breath was warm on her cheek as she slowly came around to the realization he probably wasn't going to hurt her. Her body relaxed against his, the idea that she was so comforted by the fact that in this moment he wouldn't kill her, this was such a warm and endearing feeling, frightened her. She pressed her cheek to his, finding her breath had grown shallow and quick. She felt warm lips press to the crook of her neck, suckling at the soft sensitive skin just at her jawline. The gloved hand on the small of her back slipped beneath her jacket, hitching the fabric high up around her waist, exposing her skin to the biting cold.

She felt the length of him growing stiff against her abdomen. She slowly, painfully, unclamped her fingers from the metal fence. She could feel the barbs as they drew from her skin letting out a quiet hiss of pain as she did. He nipped at her neck in response, leaving a tiny red mark near her collarbone before pulling back to look at her, the hand that had once held her head up, shot out and grasped her bleeding hand pulling the glove off to examine it.

"That was fucking stupid darlin" he noted squeezing at her palm a bit, a few more drops of blood adding to the small streams that had begun to flow down to her wrist.

"Should I have held on to you?" She asked her gaze flickering to her injured hand, flexing her fingers as he twisted her wrist this way and that, examining the bloody thing with fascination.

"Well I'm sure as shit not made of barbed wire." He said with a short dark huff of laughter.

"No – " The breathlessness clear in her tone, "You are… something else." She muttered, reflecting his earlier sentiment. She had no time to gauge his reaction before his lips crashed into hers, claiming her and hoisting her up off the fence into his arms. A thrill of fear ran through her at the weightlessness not knowing if he would throw her over or pin her to the ground. The next sensation she felt was the bare skin of her back scratching against the cold stone wall pinned up by his hips, his hand hitched her leg up around his waist. He pulled her captured hand to the side of his face then released it. She pressed the injured hand to the bare skin on his neck, leaving a few streaks of red along his throat before wrapping her arms around him, continuing to wind herself around him like a serpent seeking warmth. She hooked her forefinger around his belt tugging at it to pull him closer. He responded with a deep satisfied, victorious, groan, ending with a low chuckle. She felt his hips grind against hers as he pulled her hand away and slammed it against the wall.

"You think you run this show?" His voice was dangerously quiet as the hand that had gripped her wrist slowly trailed up her arm and down her side. She arched her back with a sharp inhale as his cold fingers drifted across her abdomen to the button zipper at the top of her jeans, flipping it open with a small flick of his fingers then pressing the chilled metal into her skin. She shivered at the sensation, her skin already more sensitive and flush, the cool copper on her warm flesh was a minute shock to her system.

"I think you'd enjoy my directing debut." She breathed through a wild grin that hid her grimace, still able to work up a witty retort despite the pain and the confusing haze of arousal and subsiding fear. Emboldened by broad grin that spread across his face she reached for his belt pulling at the leather and buckle, unclasping it.

"Oh I don't doubt that." His gravelly voice was soft as he moved to help her, finding her pace entirely too slow. A few hazy moments later his fingers dug into her bare leg, as he entered her, an exquisite aching between her thighs. A breathy sigh came unbidden to her lips as he moved, each thrust driving her closer to surrendering to him completely. She refused to lose herself to this monster, but the way his rough hands wound around her waist, holding her half naked body to his, the taste of his kiss swollen lips on hers kept her from running as much as the fear did. His pace quickened and he slammed into her, pausing for a moment their eyes locked on to one another no more heavily lidded gazes, he could see the wild abandon in her eyes. In his she saw some indecipherable but somehow intimate humanity, an undercurrent to the passionate dominance and cruelty. He moved again but slower and more deliberate, she could feel every inch of him each time he pulled back and thrust again, as the momentum began to build. They met each other's rhythm, moving together as they reached a breathy climax and she sank into his arms. He leaned into her against the wall holding them both up. She closed her eyes as her breathing returned to normal. He looked down at her for a moment and hesitated, his own breathing slowing once more. She opened her eyes and returned her gaze to his, he reached his hand up his thumb sweeping over her flushed cheek taking in the sight of her as she clung to him in the cold, quiet darkness. As quickly as this gentleness came, it disappeared and he released her. Untangling her arms from around his neck he began to refasten his belt and kicked her discarded garments at her. The cold was suddenly very present and she snatched up her clothes, dressing quickly. As she fastened her jeans a gunshot reverberated in her ears, her heart slammed into the back of her chest. Looking up she saw Negan standing, arm outstretched, a pistol in his hand pointed out into the darkness. Slowly she approached him and looked over the edge; a walker lay motionless on the snowy ground below them. He turned, at his full height he positively loomed over her, he was once again the cold mad man, the dangerous humor back in his voice.

"I suggest you pick up that fucking bow." He leaned in a bit "lest I have to do your job. If you can't do a job, there's no use for you."

She managed to quell a retort and simply picked up the bow, when she stood up he had already turned to leave, whistling as he did, the barbed Louisville slugger perched on his shoulder.


	3. Sunrise

The dark morning had just begun to grey as the sun hovered just below the horizon. She could see her opponent clearly but the warm light that sunrise usually promised hadn't made its way to the courtyard. The young man was crouched and ready, his fists bound in swaths of cloth down to his wrists, his dark skin firm over slender muscles as he tensed, waiting for her attack. Tiny puffs of hot breath made little clouds in the morning chill. Having finally broken into a sweat from her morning workout, she could feel the cold permeating her skin and down to her bones. The only way to stay warm was to keep fighting.

"Ready?" She grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet, watching the young man before her. He smirked in response and she swung out at him, a right hook perfectly placed was expertly blocked. He kicked out at her leg and she lost her footing grabbing at his arm wrenching him towards the ground with her. She twisted as the fell to the ground, caught off guard he was already trying to scramble away from her but despite her still healing hands, her grip on him was like iron. She hooked a leg around him and twisted on top of him, her free hand swinging a wild uppercut into his abdomen. She felt his hands grip at her hair twisting her braid around his fist and pulling her head back, forcing her to let go of him. She rolled to the side landing on the ground beside him and he released her.

"Cheap fuckin shot Harris." A familiar voice broke the morning silence. She stared up at the sky which had begun to slowly fade from grey to a bluish lilac. She stayed where she was, her hand flopping to her abdomen feeling her diaphragm as her breathing slowed once more, but she could hear Harris scramble to his feet.

"No rules, no holds barred." Harris muttered his explanation. She sat up and leaned forward resting her elbows on her knees.

"Fighting fair gets you killed." She added in a light sing-song voice, finally raising her gaze to take in the sight of Negan in the fair light of the breaking dawn. His face was set in a mild frown, his focus set on Harris who spoke up once more.

"I should go help on kitchen duty." He said, she could tell he was trying to find some inoffensive route out of the courtyard and away from them.

"Fuck off Harris." Negan said flatly his focus turning to her as Harris scooped up his jacket and headed around the corner. No one spoke until the high pitched squeal of the heavy metal door silenced after a metallic thud. "Losing to Harris?" Negan approached her taking slow deliberate swinging steps "Let him get a bit close there didn't you?"

"Hand to hand combat is useful. I'm not useful if I'm not capable of beating the shit out of someone." She said coldly, moving to stand. The minute she began to rise she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder pressing her back down.

"And that entails a sweaty roll-around with a muscled up fuck boy?" he teased, a lilting grin spreading across his face. She looked up at him her gaze hard and defiant.

"If it did, it'd be none of your business." Her adrenaline was making her more bold than usual.

"Well, excuse the fuck out of me." He said taking a step back. "Everything is my goddamn business, especially if you're receiving such a poor education that fuckin Harris can dispatch you so easily." She stood, now that he had given her room to do so, and reached for her coat but found it had been kicked aside and lay at the edge of the court yard behind him.

"That was childish." She said turning to him, finally giving him her full attention. She refused to chase after her jacket, bearing the heavy chill that had begun to set in on her bare arms.

"When you're dealing with a child, you do childish things." He said a mirthless laugh in his voice. "And you are being a goddamn child." She flushed and turned on him.

"You want me to take on more formidable opponents?" she challenged, unable to stop her building aggravation at his tiny jabs. Normally she could ignore most of his poking and prodding but she was exhausted, freezing and he was bouncing on her last nerve. "I can show you what kind of child I am." She took several heavy steps towards him stopping just inches from his chest daring him to strike her to rise to her level of aggression, but she knew he wouldn't.

"Oh darlin, I am aware of how capable you can be." He smiled at her knowingly, and her gaze darted away for a moment, avoiding some dark memory "I think it's time for a little time out." Suddenly his voice was gentle, like it only was on rare occasions, in the deep of the night and in quiet morning moments. His reached out his arms, as if expecting her to simply embrace him. She couldn't decide if the gesture was genuine or mocking but either way she was annoyed. She shoved sharply at his chest to little effect. His hand shot out grabbing her wrist and pulling her roughly towards him, his other arm wrapped around her waist, his hand pressing into the small of her back "Well that was just fuckin rude." He growled in her ear. Her anger was ebbing as he held her close, her body betraying her as she felt his hot breath on her neck, but she refused to give in.

"I think you forgot." She said gently, her free hand limp at her side, refusing to react to him.

"Forgot what?" He murmured, his lips brushing against her neck.

"Your rules don't apply to me" She said simply, he straightened up and looked down at her, his face affixed in a small frown. She looked up at him and they watched each other for a moment then his face broke into a wide toothy grin.

"You are right." He laughed, releasing her and stepping back to snatch her coat off the ground. "You are a free agent aren't you?" He turned back to her the same wide grin on his face "You get to fuck around all you want. You gonna fuck Harris?" She shot him a withering glance and held out her hand waiting for him to hand her the coat. "No?" he asked pulling the coat just out of her grasp.

She stared at him hard, standing silently for a moment. He watched her in return, now genuinely curious about her response. Finally she stepped towards him and reached for the coat, snatching it out of his hand. "No." she said simply shrugging it on quickly, relieved to finally have some protection from the morning chill.

"No." he repeated, she wasn't looking at him but she could hear the smile in his voice, the satisfaction he felt with her answer "Well fuck me." He chuckled darkly with feigned disbelief.

"I'd rather not." She said zipping her jacket shut and looking up, he was closer than he had been a moment ago and he had leaned down to her height, his hands in his pockets.

"Well we both know that's not quite true." He grinned, "I think you want to." The rough whisper was warm as his lips formed the words close to hers. "I think you want to – really – really bad."

She leaned in reaching her hand up to cradle the side of his face her lips coming close to his ear before she murmured, "That doesn't keep me from saying no." She pressed her lips to his cheek then leaned back to look at him, her thumb brushing over his lower lip.

He hummed in response. "Well aren't you just a fuckin monster."

"I'm not the only one." She watched him through heavy lids, realizing how close she had gotten. She felt like a fine violin string being tightened beyond its strength, creaking over the bridge, threatening to snap.

A few eternally tense moments passed in silence. Instinct drove her towards snatching him by the front of his jacket and yanking him to her in a raw and violent tangle of limbs and uneven breaths. Instinct also told her to swing a lead pipe into his teeth for daring to grin at her like that. Logic won the day, however, managing to butt its nosey ass in and get her to back down.

"No" She said, her hand dropping from his face. The statement was solidly declarative, as though what might have happened next was some sort of agreed upon eventuality.

"No, what?" He asked his head tilting in faux curiosity.

"I need some sleep." Her voice was thick with restraint as she took a step back, turning to walk away. "Night shifts." She muttered. She knew he was smiling, could almost hear the low chuckle, but she refused to turn and look at him.

Grinning, and tongue in cheek, he watched her disappear through a heavy metal door at the side of the building. Goddamn she pissed him off but fuck if he didn't love it. The view of her retreat certainly helped. He turned to head towards the front of the compound; he had a particularly special run to go on today. He paused, looking back at the door she'd gone through, the main living quarters were in the other direction – that was the door he'd come out of, on his way from his room.


	4. Evening

His whistling echoed through the hall as he returned for the day. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, the chill of evening had set in as the boilers that kicked on letting out a few random bangs as the cold metal ducts and pipes reacted to the fresh heat. Lucille perched on his shoulder, caked in drying blood and a few spare bits of flesh, she needed a good cleaning. He'd managed to dirty his own clothes as well, fuck that was annoying. Properly cleaning blood off of real leather was such a pain in the ass, at least his scarf was already red. He reached a gloved hand for the door to his room and swung it open stopping just one step in. The fucking nerve -

The sheets twisted around her legs, having tangled in a fitful sleep, her body unable to decide if it was too hot or too cold. She'd managed to end up with the book she'd been reading pressed up against her face the pages folded this way and that. A mass of messy dark waves flipped up over her head a few falling across her face as she lay on her stomach, clutching the pillow to her chest. He glanced around, her pants, coat, shoes and sweatshirt lay in a scattered trail across the room leading to the sleeping figure in his bed. His gaze trailed back up her bare legs, lingering for a moment on one of his favorite curves before making their way to the most modestly covered part of her, his other favorite curves hidden beneath a thin tank top. He took a deep hissing breath inward, letting it out quickly, trying to find his next move somewhere between impressed, irritated and aroused. Damn this girl had balls, breaking into his room, sleeping damn near naked in his bed, an empty glass and a bottle of whiskey on the table - and why the fuck did it smell like steak in here? He lay Lucielle on the small table by the window and walked over to the sink. A greasy pan lay at the bottom, she stole his steak, what the actual fuck? He turned still bewilderedly-impressed and pissed off, and strolled over to the sleeping demon wrapped in clean blue cotton.

She made a small noise and clutched the pillow tighter, shoving the book out from under her face with a haphazard fling of her arm. The paperback book flopped open, facedown, onto the floor at his feet. He reached down, scooping up the discarded thing, reading the golden embossed "Founding Brothers" on the cover.

"You a reader little monster?" he muttered tossing the book at the end of the bed. He sat down near the center of the bed and she stirred at the disturbance but didn't wake up. Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around her calf and gently shook her leg. He was rewarded with a grumbling noise and she kicked out at him attempting to shake off the offending grip. "Oh I don't think so." He scoffed with a grin, reaching his arm out around her knees and pulling her towards him, snatching her out of her slumber.

She let out another small groan and before she could tell quite what was going on she lost her grip on the pillow and her arms flailed towards her assailant, grasping at the front of his shirt. He gritted his teeth in a tight smile and covered her hands with his as they knotted in the fabric across his chest. Her hair was wild and tangled from tossing and turning, her eyes still held the haze of sleep but there was a frantic edge to her movements. "Darlin." he said quietly, she froze finally drawing herself back into reality, her gaze focusing on him.

"Oh-" She breathed, her body relaxed and her fingers slowly released his shirt.

"'Oh'? Is that all?" He watched her with raised eyebrows "With the fucking nerve it took to bust in here and make yourself at home I expected-"

"So you expected something?" She interrupted him with a small smile, flattening her hand out against his chest.

"Oh I always expect something from you, because you're a goddamn terror darlin. Problem is I'm never quite sure what I'm expecting." He grinned back.

She leaned in, her lips almost touching his ear and finished his thought for him "But damn, am I - something else." She felt the deep hum in his chest beneath her fingers, felt his hands wrap around her thighs. She was still riding a high of impetuousness, having broken into Negan's room, eaten his food, drank his whiskey, and slept in his bed. At this point she felt she could also conquer the man himself.

"Well if that aint the fuckin truth." he laughed. She warmed to his encouragement, sliding her arms around his neck as she forgave his harshness and relished in the gentleness of his embrace. He always seemed to look at her, really look at her, even if he seemed on the verge of some act of violence. There was some indescribable depth of intimacy to his gaze. In any case, she was getting better at playing this game with him, he was predictably volatile and he liked playing with her too and his skill as an opponent made him far more interesting. That was how she thought of him she realized, not as a lover, certainly not as a husband though the option was open to her, she was his rival, his opponent and in some ways an equal. Given circumstance they could be Lee and Grant, Jefferson and Adams, though at the moment their current entanglement painted them as Caesar and Cleopatra. She wasn't sure of his past, but before this world she'd been poised for power, highly trained and educated, and an ambitious young 'leader of tomorrow'. Though this world had presented her with new challenges, he was the first endeavor worthy of the education and experiences her former life had afforded her. All at once she wanted to bring him to his knees, rule at his side, and utterly destroy him.

She slowly leaned in, her lidded gaze locked with his as she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, her fingers slipping into his hair. "Please." The word was a question, a command, a request, a warning. He obliged, pressing his lips to hers his hands slowly moving from her thighs drifting to lift her up onto his lap but she beat him to it. Before he could take the appropriate grip she stole his breath moving against him, straddling him and pressing him back against the mattress. He held her with equal fervor, his fingers twisted in the back of her shirt. She could feel his muscles flexing in a restrained response as she dug her fingernails into sharply into his shoulder and nipped at his lower lip. She pulled back to look at him with a small but devious grin, he grinned back. The moments that followed floated between blurred images of sheets and clothes falling to the floor, sharp clear scenes burned into her memory as his mouth moved from her neck to her chest, his lips trailing reverently down her stomach until his chin nestled at her inner thigh his hands wrapped firmly around her hips. She could barely remember how they got there as her hands twisted his hair into tangles as they crashed into each other once more, her legs hooking around his waist as he hoisted her into his lap. She pressed forward grinding her hips against his and pressing her now hot and exhausted body against him, her skin betraying her lack of composure with a fine sheen of sweat. He lazily nipped at her neck as their motions finally slowed, winding their limbs and falling back against the tangled sheets and scattered pillows.

In the quiet moments that followed, he lay in her arms, his head resting on her chest, her fingers carding through his hair. The rare calm with this man couldn't last long, but to her it still felt like a strange victory. she was still decided when it came to him. He was dangerous, he was complicated, he was challenging, he was intriguing, he was warm.

"You can't fall asleep" she said gently to the tired monster in her arms.

"Fuck you." he muttered

"Pass." She said, a bit of laughter in her voice. She removed herself from his grasp and began to dress. He rolled onto his back his hands folded behind his head, watching her in the dim lamplight before turning to the whiskey bottle she'd left on the night stand, pouring himself a shot into the empty glass.

"Hope all that shit you stole was worth the points." His tone was jovial but she responded sharply. She tugged at the last lacing on her boots and strode over to him, her heels hitting like solid heartbeats on the floor as she did. She leaned on the bed crawling up to him she kissed him hard on the mouth, catching him off guard stirring him awake once more. Then she was striding towards the door, the heavy glass bottle in her hand, swinging at her hip as she walked.

"No points."


	5. Dark Thirty

The curled cut wires of the chainlink scraped against her legs as she pulled herself through the tight gap near the gate.

 _"Fuck that hurt"_ She cursed silently dusting the dirt from her hands as she stood.The air was crisp and her breath made tiny puffs in the dim light as she walked along the path away from the entrance to The Sanctuary. As protected as it was with the guards, gates and walkers, it wasn’t impossible to sneak in and out if you really knew what you were doing. It wasn’t safe, it wasn’t particularly smart, but some days the stuffy rooms and the thick walls became suffocating, the risk that came with her little excursion just didn’t feel as heavy against the freedom of the open air. Her regular destination was an abandon van rusted and parked up next to a shed by a little clearing made a decent perch.

She continued her trek out of the reach of the Sanctuary lights and into the woods. A machete in a thick leather sheath bumped at her hip as she walked and her trophy, the bottle of whiskey she’d stolen from Negan, sloshed at her side. She hummed quietly and stepped softly, navigating as best she could through the crunchy leaves and twigs. She heard a snap behind her, and a dragging shuffle of foliage.

Hardly missing a beat she turned to the grey decrepit creature limping towards her. Yanking the machete from its sheath she took a few steps towards the thing before side stepping out of its grasp and swinging sharply at the back of its head. The back of the skull cracked inwards and the thing fell forwards, the guttural hissing ceasing almost instantly. She watched it for a second, it was still, finally truly dead and motionless as it always should have been. A blur of noises came from behind her, a shuffle following by a wet cracking noise and a heavy thud.

She whipped towards the sound to see a familiar figure swaggering through the shadows. “Well that was fucking beautiful.” He stepped over the fallen body towards her, Lucille perched over his shoulder once more. After a moment she relaxed as the adrenaline began to seep from her veins, putting the machete back in the sheath she turned to walk towards her intended perch near the clearing, the sound of his footsteps following her.

“What are you doing out here?” She asked tersely somewhat annoyed at the intrusion into her rebellious excursion for solitude.

“Oh I thought you’d prefer having me come out here as opposed to sending out a little security team to drag your ass back in.”

She snorted a huff of laughter “I thought we were all free to leave.”

“Call me selfish.” She glanced back at him as she reached the front of the van “Or, Darlin, consider the fact that it’d look pretty fuckin bad if you just waltzed off.” He sauntered towards her as he spoke until they were only inches apart.

“So, you did miss me.” she grinned gently patting his chest before turning around and climbing up the side of the van, hooking her foot on the busted out window. He circled to the side a bit watching her clamber up the broken down vehicle.

“I miss parts of you. Other parts kind of piss me off.” He said with a small smile tilting his head to the side as he watched her.

“Don’t you have a wife or six you should be off fucking, or some other work to be doing?” She asked, hoisting herself up to sit on the roof, keeping a firm grip on the whiskey.

“Aw honey, you are dancing on my _last_ fucking nerve.” wisps of something darker seeped into his words. She looked down at him, his tone like a sudden gravity on her light mood. His eyes were harder and colder than normal, they lacked the spark they usually did. Though she wasn’t entirely sure his lack of humor could be attributed to her, it was clear that he wasn’t in much of a playful mood.

 _“Well tough shit”_ She thought _“I’m not in the mood to be accommodating.”_

“Well, I’ve always been pretty light on my feet.” Smirking, she tugged at the stopper that topped the bottle. He eyeballed the bottle in the moonlight as she raised it to her lips, taking a small sip. The contents were noticeably reduced but she didn’t seem terribly impaired, a bit brassier than usual but definitely not drunk. She recorked the bottle and nestled it between her denim clad thighs as she slid back a bit securing her seat on on the roof. She noticed his eyes running over her, lingering as they went. For a second she thought she saw some of the coldness leave his gaze but she couldn’t be sure.

“You want some company up there?” She looked at him in subdued shock. The question, the gesture was so unlike him - he didn’t ask to do things, he didn’t let people steal shit, he certainly didn’t climb up the side of a van in the dark to sit next to a girl like some lovesick teenager in a crappy indie film. He was a brutally looming figure with a bat and a horrifying grin, with large strong hands and a darkly intense gaze that was at the moment locked onto hers. She watched him steadily for a moment feeling the false warmth of the whiskey flooding her chest and fingertips as the memory of his touch ghosted over her skin. She felt her calculated annoyance with him being overcome by a primal desire to draw him closer.

“Yeah.” She nodded, shifting to the side, breaking eye contact with him as he set Lucille against the wheel well and climbed up onto in one swift motion.

“Well, hello there.” he grinned at her, having situated himself atop the van.

“Why did you follow me out here?”  looking back at him her hands went for the bottle again. He reached out and took it from her as if she’d been handing it to him.

“Ah, well I suppose I thought it must be a pretty damn nice spot if you were so fuckin stupid as to to leave the Sanctuary to come sit out here alone in the middle of the goddamn woods.” He grinned and took a short swig of the whiskey then looked back at her, keeping ahold of the bottle. “Plus, you’re a fuckin thief and I wanted to hunt you down myself.” He heard a small huff of laughter from her before she met his gaze. In return he offered the bottle to her.

“You’re in a rare mood, oh fearless leader.” She took the bottle from him, tipping it back once more. This stuff wasn’t bad, definitely not the top shelf stuff she’d been forced to sample from time to time in her former life, but this wasn’t the swill they scavenged at the gas station a few months back either. Her train of thought was broken as his hand wrapped over hers on the bottle. Her gaze snapped to his, her pale eyes meeting his deeply dark stare.

“It’s best you not forget that second part sweetheart. You’ve been a bit of a shit lately.”  He jerked the bottle out of her hand, taking a noticeably deeper swig, he wasn’t grinning anymore. “Now don’t get me wrong, in private I kinda like that shit,” He corked the bottle and set it down gently beside him “I fucking love - our conversations - you are a ballsy little thing, gets me hard just thinkin about it, and fuck if you don’t just feel - so good.  Problem with this attitude of yours is that I am in a position of authority-” Somehow, she managed to scoff at his delicate phrasing, he raised his eyebrows at the interruption. “Let’s try that again- I am the fucking authority.” He took ahold of her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up to ensure she was looking at him. Watching him she refused to show fear in her eyes, she was still all defiance, all fire, she was solid and held his gaze as fast as he held hers. “Now I know you’re a smart girl, and you definitely seem to know that you’re a smart girl. So what would a smart girl do?”

“You want me to apologize?” she asked flatly.

“I want you to get with the fuckin program.” His fingers tightened around her chin ever so slightly. She was pushing the point, he certainly wasn’t playing with her she wasn’t going to sass or fuck her way out of this.

“I am a smart girl” She reached one hand up, gently wrapping her fingers around his wrist. He relaxed a bit sensing some surrender from the willful creature beside him.

“I know you are.” a small grin returned to his face and the monster was gone for now. “I know that you’ll be such a big help now that we’ve had this wonderful little chat.”

“But, right now it’s only us?” She asked quietly, her gaze softening. “It’s just you and me out here...”

“Well shit, you are a smart girl aren’t you?” His hand slid from her chin to the side of her neck and she tilted her head as she moved closer to him, her leg pressing against his. Leaning in, her free hand skimmed across his thighs slowing for a moment between his legs brushing against his belt buckle. He hummed in response leaning back a bit, failing to notice as her hand wrapped around the whiskey bottle at his side. She stilled for a moment their breaths mingling, her lips almost touching his as his eyes closed, then she slipped from his grasp, a light thud and the empty space beside him registered first. He looked down and she was just standing up from her crouched landing on the ground. Turning with the bottle in her hand, she shook it at him, a wild grin on her face. He grinned back and jumped down after her, she turned, laughing, and jogged into the moonlit clearing. After a few long strides he caught her, his arm wrapping around her waist. She straightened up and leaned back into his embrace, pressing her hips against his groin.

“Oh darlin.” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. His other arm winding around her hips, his fingertips skirting along the top of her jeans then slipping under the fitted fabric, his hand splaying against her. His fingers drifted down slowly pressing against her as she tensed for a moment her hand over top of her jeans covering his, urging him onward. “Fuck that is too tempting.” he chuckled.

“Just tempting?” She asked with a breathy delirious laughter in her voice, leaning her head back against his chest. His hand pressed in a bit and she gasped at the cool touch, waiting for him to continue on but he didn’t. His hand moved back up her abdomen and she turned to face him. As she turned, he gathered her into his arms, one hand weaving into her hair as he pulled her to him, holding her close but making no further move towards her.

“There are a lot of things you make me want to do.” His voice was quiet, his arm tightened around her waist slipping beneath her shirt. His thumb moved slowly and methodically along the curve of her waist as he felt her body relax against him, her lidded gaze drawn to his. She slung her free arm around his neck, holding him tight, the bottle of whiskey hanging limp in her other hand. “You’re more than tempting.” His voice was soft enough to be a whisper but was still so strikingly clear and deep. She watched him for a moment, the playfulness from before had shifted to something else. This was something she’d never seen from him, if she didn’t know better she would have called it honesty. No matter the motivation, he felt closer than he’d ever been before, she could feel the dark monster treading nearer to parts of her she thought she’d locked away.

She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t form words instead taking a short breath in. Her mind was swimming, her skin suddenly felt very hot. She was so angry that he’d silenced her, angry with herself that she was so enamoured by this seemingly special attention he gave her that she couldn’t rip herself from his embrace. Her breath caught in her throat and a passing panic set in, she couldn’t remember why she was there, why his arms were around her, a pulse of tenseness went through her limbs. Then his hand moved to her cheek, his fingers cupping her face, his thumb running over her lower lip. He succeeded in pulling her from whatever dark place she’d been slipping towards, feeling her fingers weave through his hair, her gaze focusing on his.

“You tempt me too.” She whispered her fingernails gently digging into his neck as she pulled herself up to press her lips against his. He hummed in response, his fingers twisted in her hair as their lips molded against each other. Her other arm wrapped around his neck, still holding the whiskey bottle, as she nipped at his lower lip. He growled in response, she could feel him smile against her lips before he deepened the kiss moving from slow to heavier fevered motions, both of them growing breathless.

He pulled back, looking down at her, a tilted grin spreading across his face. “I’m not going to fuck you in a field in the dark where some fucked up thing could walk up on us.”  


“Pussy.” She whispered, mimicking his dangerous teasing tone. His grin widened as she slid from his arms and began trekking back across the field towards the gates of the sanctuary. He watched her for a moment then followed about 20 paces behind her, snatching Lucille up on his way past the van. He could see the heaviness in her steps, the tenseness in her shoulders as she stalked back to the fence. She stepped out into the road just by the gates to see Dwight and a couple of other armed men standing just inside the chainlink looking tired and annoyed. She stood still watching them quietly as Negan walked up behind her.  
  
He leaned down and whispered in her ear “I told you, you were gonna have to cut this shit out.” Her blood turned cold in her veins as he walked forward before turning to face her “I’m gonna need you to apologize.”  
  
(To Be Continued..)


	6. Darkness

Consciousness came to her like the lifting fog, small pieces of the world appearing moment by moment. A thin sliver of light ran along the edge of the floor, fanning out and blending into the darkness of the small room. The floor had been scrubbed clean when she had been thrown in, but now the dirt that had been caked on her skin and clothes had dusted off so the smooth concrete was gritty and rough against her skin. Laying on her back, she took a deep breath in feeling a deep pain in her ribs as her lungs expanded. She was pretty sure nothing was broken, her fingers drifted up her abdomen under her shirt feeling where the pain was coming from. The skin was firm and tender to the touch, she couldn't see them but she knew the bruises had to be pretty heinous.

None of the men had hurt her. Some silent agreement between Negan and his thugs was clear that no man would lay a hand on her. That didn't keep her from harm, there were enough female saviors with strong hands and mean spirits to dole out punishments on rare occasions like this. She could still feel Arat's boot as is slammed between her ribs, her fingers as they twisted her hair against her scalp shoving her forward as she dragged her along the hallway towards her new temporary quarters.

She rolled onto her side alleviating some of the pressure on her ribs. She slowly became more aware of the rest of her body, her mouth was dry and her lips felt swollen, she hadn't touched or moved them yet but the dull throbbing told her there was probably a fresh split along her chin and lower lip.

A dull hammered noise preceded the blinding spotlight that turned Negan's tall frame into a intimidating silhouette. She realized he wasn't going to let her get away with her little excursion, it had been a little cherry on top of a few private insurrections and her insubordinate attitude that had been on display in the courtyard. He leaned down to her level, Lucille perched on his shoulder, still caked in congealed blood from the walker in the woods. "I'm gonna need you to apologize."

Not everything that happened after that was clear. There was a deep burn in her throat as she gulped down two mouthfuls of whiskey. She certainly didn't say she was sorry, she couldn't remember if she said anything at all. His hand was leather clad steel as it gently pulled the bottle from her grasp.

"I know better than to leave you with this", he grinned as he tugged the machete from her waist, then he disappeared into the darkness beyond the edge of the spotlight, two men appeared where he had gone. She took a step back and turned to run, strong hands fastened to her arms and twisted her to the ground, the breath leaving her lungs. Then she was being dragged, moments later she was hustled along the dirt road and back into the Sanctuary. She remembered being handed over to Arat as they used her body to shove open a door into the dark hallway.

"She needs a little time out." His voice was fading as he walked away. She could still see Arat's cold, wordless, contemptuous glare. She struck out at her as soon as Negan was out of sight, it wasn't her smartest move, the woman had a few inches over her and a far more brutal swing to her punches. Then she was on the ground, Arat's boot in her ribs, the woman grabbed a fistful of her jacket at her shoulder and dragged her down the hallway, hauling her into the room, slamming the door behind her.

She closed her eyes trying to make the spotty memories permanent, fearing they'd slip away. She wasn't sure how long she had been stuck in the room locked up but she could feel the effects of having consumed what probably ended up being about 10 shots of whiskey on an empty stomach. She wouldn't call herself hungover, it hadn't been that much alcohol, but she was definitely dehydrated and her head felt hollow, a deep gently pulsing pain centered in the middle of her brain.

She let out a deep groan as she rolled towards the light and pushed herself up, a sharp pain shooting through her side as she did. She leaned against the door and slapped her hand against the metal door.

"Hey!" her cracked voice reverberated against the walls. She slapped her bare and hand against the door a few more times. "Hey!" she drew the sound out for several seconds then punctuated the end of the word with four distinct slaps.

She didn't even hear the footsteps outside before the door swung open. Falling backwards, she hit the ground hard and her eyes slammed shut remaining closed as if not looking would keep her from feeling the pain.

"Well I do have perfect timing don't I?" he was definitely smiling, she could almost see the broad toothy grin, his tongue running along his top teeth as he watched her on the ground. She finally opened her eyes and knew she'd guessed right. Refusing to move she glared up at him.

"You're still angry. I get that - but I did bring you something." He tossed something over her and into the room, she could hear the light thud as it landed a few feet from her. "Some clean clothes, water, there's even a hairbrush in there- because sweetheart you look like shit."

"Whose fault is that?" She managed to find a small croaking voice to fire the quiet accusation back at him.

"Oh!" he leaned back a with a huge grin "It does speak." She rolled to the side and slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position "Now you do know Arat wouldn't have taken this kind of initiative if you hadn't fucked with her. Gave her quite the shiner and the boys are a bit scratched up from dragging your ass up here - you put up quite the fight - I really thought you were smarter than that."

She looked up at him her eyebrows raised.

"Oh you're right - you're too stubborn not to throw a few punches, I know how feisty you can get." He gave her a wolfish grin, his words lilted with innuendo. "I don't think the whiskey helped, but that part was your fault." He added as he knelt down to her level.

"So you got exactly what you wanted?" She watched him steadily

"Oh no sweetheart, I'd never want this." He pointed in a zigzag motion from her bruised and bloodied lip to her dirty clothes and her hand clutched at her side. "But it is exactly what I expected from you."

"Likewise."

"Oh now you can't be all pissy about it. You brought some of this on yourself, you certainly wouldn't have-"

"Stop it." the words found her way through gritted teeth. He stopped, looking at her with mild surprise.

"You got something to say to me?" the grin was gone and replaced by that familiar stare, humorless and intense.

"I had already apologized." said trying to keep the petulance from her tone "I know that wasn't enough" a wave of pain pulsated through her head and she squinted at the sensation. "You have an image to maintain."

"Let me stop you there - because to everyone else here it's not an image. Everyone else here believes in the cause, everyone else here drops to their knees when I so much as enter a room."

"Yeah - I know how much you love that." She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned against the door frame.

"Well it certainly is a benefit."

"And your word is law." She breathed through the pain as is subsided and opened her eyes to look at him once more.

"And you feel differently do you? Because you don't have to be here." He tossed the empty threat in at the end but quickly followed it up "As intolerable as you are I do like having you around. I'm hoping this little-"

She let out a huff of laughter to interrupt him "Don't you fucking call it a lesson."

He grinned at her,"You are right - I don't suppose I can call it that, you're a bit slow. Calling it a lesson implies that you learned something." A few beats of silence passed. He took her silence as a moment to really look at her as she stared back at him. Her pale green eyes were demanding and sharp, her dark curls were a mess, her full lips, set in a frown had a small clean split on the left side where Arat had taken a fist to her face. His gaze drifted to the delicate but scraped and bloodied hand she had wrapped around her injured side, assessing her filthy clothes and labored movements. He took in her injuries along side her willful words and challenging gaze, the curve of her lips and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed out slowly. Fuck, she pissed him off, the fact that she was all bruised and bloodied up pissed him off, that she refused to just step in line, that she kept looking at him like that, that she was so fucking smart and so fucking stubborn, all of it just really pissed him off.

"I wanna help you darlin I really do, because I think you could be a big help here, but you gotta meet me halfway." She knew he wasn't going to give her infinite chances. This place had rules, rules she'd been skirting at best until now. For a while she'd flown under the radar but when he started to notice her, when she started to let him notice her, it became harder to pretend that she was a blind follower, that she held the same reverence for Negan that everyone else did.

"You are not my god." She held his gaze, seeing no reaction to the spiteful words. "But I want to stay." She needed to say more, begrudging participation wasn't enough. "Not out of necessity, not because it's the safest place to be - this is where I want to be, I want to-" She paused her gaze drifting from one rough feature to another, the scruff on his chin, his angular jaw, and the dark eyes and broad grin that competed to show anger and satisfaction all at once. "Show you what I can do."

"Well that's a start." He grinned at her "I'm sure we'll find a much more productive use of your skills once you no longer look like you just walked out of a goddamn bar fight."

She scoffed, working herself back into a better humor "I think it makes me look badass" She muttered looking away from him, carding her fingers through her hair, tugging some of the knots from her locks.

"You haven't seen a mirror, you look like shit." He chuckled, standing and walking past her. He pulled a lightbulb from his pocked and reached towards the ceiling, screwing the bulb into the bare socket in the center of the small room. He flicked a switch and a dull yellow light illuminated the space. The floor was covered in dirt, a few distinct smears of blood, in a far corner her coat lay in a rumpled heap. When he turned back to her she was standing, still leaning against the door frame.

"You haven't seen all of it." she watched him steadily. She reached down and slowly peeled off the thin long sleeved shirt, revealing the scratches and finger shaped bruises on her arms, the bloodied knuckles and slightly swollen fingers on her right hand. He could see the hands digging into her limbs, her hand connecting with Arat's cheek and chest as she swung at the woman repeatedly trying to break from her grasp. She took another step towards him, kicking off her shoes as she did, unfastening and stepping out of her pants. His eyes drifted up her battered legs, lingering on the light grey purple bruise at her hip. He could hear her shins slamming against the stairs as they hauled her along, the bump and swing of the door as Dwight shoved her sideways against it to open it. She saw his gaze darken as she lifted the hem of her tank top, pulling the final curtain to reveal the heinous black and purple bruise that spread like vibrant watercolors across her ribs. She took another step forward now only inches from him, nearly naked, her atonement on display. She knew he wanted to see, wanted to see each bruise and scrape, and even if he didn't want to see it, some part of him needed to see it. She watched him as she approached still not entirely sure what kind of fascination her injured body held for him. He didn't seem ashamed of the damage he'd cause nor was he particularly proud of the effects of his punishment. She reached out and took his gloved hand, slowly tugging at each finger before pulling it off and tucking it into his front pocket. She ran her thumb along his palm before drawing his hand towards her, flattening it gently against her bruised ribs. He let a short whistling breath out, examining the mottled purple flesh before his gaze flicked up to meet hers. He flexed his fingers against the hot tight skin, she tensed but didn't move, her eyes never leaving his. She was showing him he was in control, showing him she was strong, she was showing him that she could take it and that she wasn't leaving, that she wanted to stay.

"Oh darlin." He grinned, his thumb brushing a patch of uninjured skin "You've got a ways to go, but I don't think you need to be in here anymore." She leaned in a bit her hands reaching for the front of his shirt, he wrapped his free hand around her waist drawing her in.

"No, I don't think I do." She leaned in tilting her face towards his as he leaned down his lips almost touching hers.

"You can think what you want sweetheart, but you're still on very thin ice." his voice was steady and quiet "I'm going to let you out of here but that doesn't make it all better." His hand squeezed hard against her side and she cringed, her body convulsing, her teeth grinding against the pain. Breath evacuated her lungs and her fingers knotted in his shirt as she struggled to stand tall and hold his gaze.

He released her and took a step back, scooping up the sack of clothes and water and pushed it towards her chest. "Get dressed, we've got places to be."


	7. Yesterday

_She was running._

_The early morning sun cast a bright fresh light across the frosted land. Thin wisps of fog hovered over the tall blue-green grass that carpeted the rolling hills. With each step of her heavy over sized boots there was a crushed footprint in the frozen earth leaving easy evidence of her path as she walked, each print revealed in her wake as the swaths of white chiffon slid along the ground. Her hair was carefully and cleanly parted into two loose french braids, a few sprigs of tiny white and green blossoms tucked into the glossy locks. The air was still and cold, as she reached the crest of the hill, handfuls of her full skirt gathered into her fists. A deep green wool coat covered her shoulders with room to spare, draping over the delicate lace bodice, keeping her warm against the early morning chill. The enormous oak tree loomed before her, the leaves had just begun to turn, they certainly hadn't been prepared for the early autumn cold snap. She reached it and stopped for a moment, her fingers smoothing over the boards nailed into the trunk before she hoisted her skirts by the mud and blood soaked hem and clambered up to the old plank platform at the crux of the tree. She collapsed and rolled over as she came to the top her chest heaving, her breath coming out in rolling puffs into the air above her._

_She held up her hand examining the thin gold chain that wrapped around her wrist several times before circling her ring finger. Balling her hand into a fist the chain strained against her skin but still it didn't break, not even at the tiny weld against her palm that still felt like a burning iron searing her flesh. After a moment her breath slowed and she realized nothing and no one was following her, and sleep took her._

She watched the trees become smaller as the road rolled out in front of her from the back of the pickup truck. The thick nylon leather sheath for the machete at her side dug into her abdomen as she sat folded against the cab in the back of the bed.

"You still back there sunshine?" Negan yelled over the sound of the engine and the gravel flying. She turned and leaned over the side of the bed so he could see her face in the passenger side mirror, holding up her middle finger in response. He just grinned, his tongue sliding along the edge of his top teeth before he looked away, going back to his conversation with Dwight. He had been taking her on supply pickups for the past couple of weeks and various trips he took out of the Sanctuary. She still had no specific role but he always kept close by, gave her few tasks and she was rarely given the opportunity to speak. Much of what they did was incredibly mundane, most places they went were already so subdued that supplies were simply handed over, perhaps a few grumblings and backhanded insults exchanged between both veiled and blatant threats but not much else happened.

There was one place they went, Alexandria, he decided she wouldn't come along. He had hopped out of the truck then shut the door on her before she could slide out after him. Her gaze flicked up to meet his, annoyed and confused.

"You-" He pointed at her through the open window "- get to guard the truck." and with a quick grin he hitched Lucille over his shoulder and walked away. She sat stewing for a few minutes while nearly all of the others left to venture into the town. As time passed the sweltering heat became unbearable  and she shoved open both doors, kicking off her shoes andlaying down across the seats, her hair pulled up over her head, her shirt rolled up exposing her skin to as much of the rare breeze that flowed through. She lay in the uncomfortable heat for hours before dozing off, she was awakened by the sound of the gates rolling open. Rising quickly, she watched as a haggard pair from the local group passed through and was met by some of the Saviors. There was some commotion and argument from the pair, one of the men was on the ground. The other man turned to go and she tried her best to listen as one as the newcomer entered town, was this what Negan had been waiting for? She heard a yell, a scuffle, a gunshot for a few seconds passed then she could hear Negan's voice, he was yelling, he was angry, very angry - another gunshot. Each of these moments seemed so far apart each telling her so little about what was happening. She felt her heart slam against her chest as silence took over after the last gunshot. She felt like she was blindly freefalling into a pit, she was staring at a shut box - were the contents living or dead? Her mind raced then like the eye of a storm everything was still, she shoved her boots on and slid out the driver's side door to see Negan leading the Saviors and someone new, someone from the Alexandria group, out of town. Lucille swung at his side, he wasn't smiling. Her mind quickly settled at the sight of him, she could feel her face flush as she realized her panic was due to some sort of concern for his life, she pushed all her energy into moving past the feeling. His face was set and serious, his eyes at the same time were intensely haunted and full of rage. This was a rare form she was seeing, he curtly directed the others to the remaining vehicles and the loads of supplies they were taking with them and heading directly towards her to drive the truck himself. She climbed in the truck before he could reach her, not wanting to exacerbate his mood by getting in the way. He followed her into the truck and rested Lucille on the seat between them as the gates rolled open.

"Maybe I should have brought you with me darlin." He said with a sharp grin, looking straight ahead. She could see the blood on his face, on his hands and his clothes. This was the blood of a living person. She'd never seen him kill with his own hands before, never a person, but she knew he had. Frankly - it was one of the reasons she'd trusted him when they met. Though now she knew that between his more righteous acts, however twisted, sometimes the monster slipped in and took a life simply to exert power, to show strength. The truck rumbled to life and lurched toward as Negan led the convoy away from Alexandria. She looked over at him examining his face, her gaze steady and calm.

"It wouldn't have changed anything." Her voice reached his ears, her tone even, warm and confident. She wasn't accusing him of anything, it almost rang of familiarity, not approval but there was no condemnation either. "I'm sure you had other options..." She saw his knuckles whiten against the steering wheel, but his shoulders relaxed and he let out a huff of laughter.

"But?" He led her on, hearing the trailing off of her voice, knowing she had more to say. She looked away from him and watched the trees pass out the window.

"You know what you're doing." She replied gently, her gaze drifting out over the trees to the fields beyond.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence and when they returned she helped unload the supplies and went straight to her room to sleep. The next thing she saw after she closed her eyes was his face as he nudged her awake in the dark of the early morning.

"Let's go! Strap-on and gear up sunshine." He said a darkly lilting cheer to his voice "We are takin a field trip."

She'd probably been in the back of the pickup truck with the men Negan had brought with them for nearly an hour before the sun began to rise, pinking the cold blue horizon. After a while the trees began to look familiar and she felt her chest constrict and her throat turn to ice as the truck turned down the long country driveway. She turned around looking at Negan in the side mirror, he looked right back, his firm gaze reflected directly at her. He could see her eyes, so unusually cold and full of rage, he held back the satisfied grin and looked away watching as the buildings came into view.

The truck drove carefully between a pair of great Georgia oaks, the trees themselves were magnificent with vast thickly branched canopies a few orange leaves still hung on through the winter, rattling in faint breeze. Upon closer view the beautiful became grizzly, at least a dozen skeletal corpses hung like christmas ornaments within the branches, each skull punctuated with a deep fracture to the temple. The men beside her looked up curiously as they passed by and pulled up to a bend in the overgrown dirt driveway halting at the main event. The front end of a broad porch was the last recognizable piece of what had once been a great plantation house. The burned and hollowed out columns of the greek revival style building lay fallen and charred on the ground amongst the rubble.

Negan hopped out of the truck walking to where the front door would have been and turned to her "Welcome home!" he said jovially spreading his arms at the scene before her. She climbed out of the truck but the men didn't follow her. "I still love what you did with the place." He added with a grin, she watched him steadily then walked forward, heading towards the wreckage. She paused as she reached him, her gaze drifting down to a charred bundle of chains, nudging it with the toe of her boot to uncover it from the ash. Negan leaned towards her his voice soft and rough "If I remember correctly you did the decorating yourself?".

She walked on, straight through the ashen wreckage to what was once the backyard. The sun was hitting the hills just like it had that morning, she could see the oak out in the distance and she felt ice flow through her wrist circling her fingers like a phantom touch. She heard him walk up behind her, but he still reached a hand out to her lower back in a rare gentle gesture, silently letting her know he was there.

"Why are we here?" She asked "There's nothing here for...anyone. I've been following you around for weeks, right by your side, watching you. It's the most subtle you've ever been." She said accusingly "You're trying to teach me something." The past few weeks and her memories of the sanctuary from the past six months shuffled through her consciousness, flashes of his benevolence, his cruelty and strength. She remembered his madness and his rage, the rare tenderness and the heat of his skin against hers. She could hear the clarity in his commanding voice and the terrifying silence before he'd break into a broad grin and either backoff or do something horrifying. "I know what you're doing. I know what you want." she said her voice tinted with petulance as if he'd been trying to deceive her.

"And what is that?" He asked a smirk toying at the edge of his lips.

"You want me." He turned then, a look of wild confusion on his face, but she didn't look back, she just continued watching the sun peek over the grassy hills. "You don't need devotion, the saviors worship you. You don't need obedience, your lutinents don't question you. You don't need another wife - I think you have enough variety in the kind of assistance they provide. They all work for you, they exist _for_ you." He frowned as she turned to meet his gaze. "I refuse to lose myself that way. It isn't in me." She said her voice growing a bit distant.

"Oh darlin trust me." He said, a grin creeping back onto his face. "I remember."

"I can be cooperative if given the chance." She said quietly, some other memory seemed to drift through her mind, he could almost hear her mind wandering in her voice.

"Jesus." he grinned and turned from her stepping back a bit and laughing, after a moment he turned back to her his laughter having quickly subsided "Shit, you are just something else, and I must be in a good mood because I am considering your little 'offer'." She said nothing else but held his gaze. His broad grin faded to a small smile as he slowly walked back over to her. She watched him warily as he reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes. His hand trailing down her face, his thumb sweeping across her cheek and lingering as he examined her face for a moment. His eyes bore into hers looking for something, some trace of a lie, of weakness, of something other than what he believed her to be. He really only trusted his own assessment and her actions, her words meant little to nothing to him. He knew she had strength, what concerned him was a lack of control and her ability to be a part of the group. He was learning more about her and each wild grin, insubordinate jab and tender touch made him like her more. It didn't matter how much he liked her though, he had an empire to think about and he was hardly prepared to compromise his power for her. He realized it was her unpredictability that made him take pause, but he was starting to figure her out, and she'd shown him obedience in the past few weeks and he saw the way she watched everything and blended in to the group silently when needed. Maybe it was time to loosen her chains a bit.

"I'm going to give you the same choice I gave you then." His voice was roughly serious and quiet.

"I never changed my mind."

_The smoke had been rolling through the sky all day and finally Negan decided they had to go and check it out. The plantation style farm was a cavalcade of horrors, from the bodies in the trees to a hot smouldering burned out building at the end of the grand driveway. Other than the fire, the place was meticulously maintained, the grass was clipped short, the dirt drive was swept and evidence of tidy human existence was everywhere. But small details began to set the group on edge. Every single door and latch and bolt or padlock on it, but all doors locked from the outside. Negan slowly walked through the property as the saviors spread out through the outer buildings carefully picking their way through but finding no movement._

" _Check out the buildings." He heard Dwight order, followed by the cracking sounds of the locked doors being bashed in. They wouldn't find anything. Negan walked around the back of the smoking building and saw the first physical sign of humanity. A deformed half burned corpse lay writhing in the grass crawling from the fire. It was a man and though he was missing most of himself at this point, the cause of death was clear. A gaping slice had turned his throat into a ferocious grin, severed all the way to his spine, blood stained what flesh was left on the body. There was a machete stabbed into the ground about 30 feet away, he continued on and looked out in the direction the corpse was crawling. There was a depression where the high grass started at the edge of the yard, someone had made a made a path here recently. He started following the footsteps in the grass before his gaze drifted up, settling on the tree in the distance with parts of a tree house still intact. He reached the tree and saw the smears of blood on the planks that created a ladder up the trunk. Setting Lucille down against the tree, he climbed up slowly until he could see a sleeping figure laying on the platform. It was a woman, swathed in airy white fabric marred by mud blood and ash. He glanced back seeing some of his men following his path out to the tree, then climbed up to sit at the edge of the platform._

_He looked back to the woman, she was young, probably in her mid to late twenties, her face was delicate and pale with full lips and dark lashes that fanned lightly against her cheeks as she slept. He reached to wake her up but she moved first, her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist yanking him forwards in a violent motion. Caught off-guard he felt her roll on top of him, sitting on his chest, one knee pressing between his collarbone and his throat, her hands frantically searched for some kind of weapon on him, her breathing became rapid as she realized there was nothing to find._

" _I didn't come up here to hurt you darlin." She whirled on him, her face was now masked in a disturbing calm, her pale sage eyes set on him. He put up his hands in a defensive motion and she slowly climbed off of him her body still tense and wary. Sitting up, he let out a short whistle "Oo sweetheart. You are scary as shit."_

" _Are they gone?" She asked watching him steadily, her voice was flat._

" _Did you do that?" He frowned his gaze drifting to her bloodstained hands and dress. In the attack the coat had fallen off of her shoulders and he could see pale blue bruises on her arms, then he saw the chain wrapped around her hand and ring finger, she followed his gaze, looking down at it._

" _Yes." She watched her hand turning it over slowly watching the gold chain glint in the light of the setting sun. "I don't do well in captivity." She said vaguely._

" _Well I see that. That place is burned to to the fucking ground." He chuckled a bit. "I'm all for a heavy hand when needed but that looks like overkill."_

" _Preemptive use of ultimate force." She grinned, something brilliantly wild and sharp in her eyes as she looked up at him. "It is even better to act quickly and err than to hesitate until the time of action is past." She talked like a General and smiled like a madman._

" _What's that supposed to be, philosophy?"_

" _It's Clausewitz." The craziness seemed to subside a bit as she began to explain. "Clausewitz believed in the morality of war - I think that despite his ideals he would have understood my actions…" she said quietly her eyes locked onto his._

" _You're a smart little thing aren't you?" He chuckled, unintimidated she smirked in response._

" _Yes.I am." She watched him for a moment, her eyes assessing him, he felt as if she was analyzing him. After a few beats she spoke again. "What do you want?"_

" _I want to get you out of here." He said firmly, he watched as her eyes widened in response, but she didn't move. "And I think you're gonna wanna come along." He heard the men shuffling about below and he looked over the edge, waving away the questioning look Dwight was giving him. He turned back to her, she had moved back a bit and watched him warily. "We are the saviors, there are a lot of rules, but we're re-making this world." Her eyes narrowed at this, as though she was hearing a familiar lie._

" _You're the leader." She said flatly. It wasn't a question._

" _And what makes you think that?" He said with a grin, she responded with one of her own but said nothing, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the chain on her left hand as she watched him silently._

" _Look darlin, I'm not going to give you the hard sell, I'm just going to give you a choice. You can come with us, no one will hurt you, you follow the rules, you contribute, you earn for me and you'll do just fine. We can leave you up in this tree, again, no one will hurt you, I won't force you to join us it just doesn't work that way." Her face was unreadable but after a few beats of silence she crawled over to him and reached her left hand out to him. He grinned and reached his hand out to hers as if to shake it, instead he took it gently and turned her hand palm-up. Slipping his fingers under the thin gold chain, with one sudden jerk he ripped it from her hand the sound of a faint snap as it broke right at the weld. She smiled at his hand over hers, her fingers winding gently around his wrist in return before lifting her gaze to meet his._

" _Let's go."_


	8. Twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: A bit of a fluff/short chapter - I'm up to 70 hours a week through 2nd week of March so... think of me fondly and allow some absence/lag. If you're interested in the song without having to put the pieces together it's "Love is Strange" by Mickey & Sylvia 1956 (you'll recognize from Dirty Dancing - I'd recommend listening to it again too, gives a feel to reading this little bit ^_^ )
> 
> Side note - I'm taking requests for one shots on these two! Prompts/scenarios accepted, just message or comment, some nights it might be easier/better to be able to get one of those out (a full chapter will take me longer working 12+ hours a day 6 days a week).

The soft cotton looked positively rugged against her skin as he watched her sleep from across the room. The slowly dimming evening light cast a cool blue hue over her as her chest slowly rose and fell with the deep contented quiet sounds of sleep. He sat in his chair, feet up with his chin in his hand, and felt a small satisfied grin spread to his lips at the realization he'd had some hand in the exhaustion of the creature in his bed. She was a hard fought victory, a fragile ally, and a dangerously tempting opponent.

He draped his fingers over the glass of whiskey on the table beside him, the earlier moments replaying in his mind as if they were projected on the bed in front of him. The ghosted sensation of her fingers running through his hair was interrupted by some movement across the room. She sat up, a handful of sheets gathered around her chest, her eyes set on him.

"You're watching me sleep." She said with a small smirk.

"Well it's a pretty good view." He leaned back and picked up the glass, tipping it back, draining its contents. She stood up, letting the sheets fall away from her bare chest, walking across the room towards him. Having emerged from the warmth of the bed the cool open air nipped at her skin, helping her to shed the haziness of sleep. She turned as she neared him, walking to the small record player that sat opposite him by the door. He watched her silently, his gaze drifting slowly up and down her body lingering on his favorite and most familiar curves, all bare and on display as she gently set a record on the turntable. The twang of two old electric guitars quietly drifted through the room.

" _Love, love is strange…"_ the couple's lazy lilting voices rolled through the lyrics as she slowly swayed to the first few bars then turned to him. His small smile had turned to a full grin as she walked over to him. She'd lost all wariness today, today they trusted each other in the quiet of the dimming evening, an old familiar song humming in the background. She nudged his feet off the stool and stepped between his knees, taking his hands in hers, placing them on her bare hips.

"Oh honey." He pulled her onto his lap, a restrained growl in his low, quiet voice.

"Yes loverboy?" She grinned, her fingers sliding from his shoulders to weave into his hair. He let out a huff of laughter and pulled her towards him his arms wrapping around her waist, his lips trailing from the center of her chest slowing as he moved up. She felt the gentle pressure when his hands pressed into her skin as his mouth lay claim to her breasts, his tongue flicking across the sensitive buds, refusing to move on until he received the appropriate breathy gasp from her mouth as his teeth grazed her tender skin. He pulled her close to him as he moved to her neck, his hands knotting in her hair as he held her to him, hoisting her further up on his lap, nested between her thighs. She grinned and tilted her head back as he made his way up her throat then she looked back down at him, her insides felt like a coiling serpent as he paused, examining her lidded gaze, her wild hazy grin.

"Shit doll, you are a handful." He muttered before she let out a short laugh and slowly leaned down stealing his breath with a deep kiss. He could feel the tenseness of every muscle in her body as she moved, slow and restrained. She pulled back her lips pressing to his cheek then his neck.

Her voice was breathy, striking right to his core as she spoke quietly into his ear, her lips moving against his skin. "Give me a job."

"Oh I've got a job for you." He chuckled "It's more than a handful." She pulled back and looked at him and he could see she'd changed gears. Fuck she was frustrating. "Couldn't pick a better time to make this little request?" he asked.

"It's not a request." She said flatly, her thumb sweeping across his cheek as she gazed down at him, the tender gesture at odds with the sudden clinical negotiation.

"Oh it's not? Funny, I thought we'd talked about this." He said his tone a bit darker.

"We did." She said firmly, obviously referring to his promise to let her help, to let her in. Her constant control of the conversation was beginning to eat at him as she turned each question back. She could see his irritation and frankly didn't care, she'd been promised, she'd shown him she was ready and he'd said he trusted her. Perhaps she hadn't chosen the best time but she knew she could recapture the moment, she could get what she wanted if she did it right. "Give me something."

"What are you fucking holding me hostage here?" He said in irritated disbelief.

"Just checking in with the boss." She grinned "Making sure I'm being all I can be." He seemed to relax a bit at this and managed a derisive smirk.  
  
“I’d really love some good fried chicken.” He said his smirk cutting into a smile. she let out a short scoff of laughter and stared at him for a beat before responding.

"Fine." She smiled "I'll take care of it." her resigned response seemed to pacify him, she felt him relax beneath her as his hands slid up her back drawing her in.

"Now, we were talking about jobs right?" He grinned.

"Careful Mickey, or you'll be doing those jobs yourself." She arched her back leaning into him, her chest now flush with his.

"Oh Sylvia-" he chuckled

Her face broke into a deviously wild grin and she tapped one finger under his chin, as she rolled her hips against his, "Come-ere loverboy."


	9. Before - Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback Chapter - her first moments in the Sanctuary.

She held his gaze, her brows knitted together, her hands stopped rifling through the bag of clothes he’d brought for her and she tossed the plaid shirt down on top of the other items she’d claimed. She said nothing but her answer was glaringly obvious in those striking pale green eyes.

“Well you’re already wearing the goddamn dress.” His charming smile was a gentle blanket laying over the insensitive implication. Her eyebrows raised and she managed a quiet scoff as she moved past him toward the plush leather sofa at the other side of the room, swaths of ashen bloodied fabric trailing behind her. It had grown dark and the room was dimly lit by a single low wattage lamp by the sofa and an oil fed flame hooded by fluted glass on the coffee table.  

“Darlin I don’t like askin that question more than once.” He was still smiling but his voice was just a little more tense. He shoved his hands into his pockets, leaning toward her a bit as he spoke. He’d brought her back to this place, this comfortable, well furnished place, hoping it would sway her into taking him up on his second proposal of the day - she’d said yes to the first one but he knew the second was a long shot.

“Hurts your pride does it?” Her lips formed that same beautifully wild grin they had when he’d ask her the first question, when he’d invited her to come with him. He couldn’t help but grin back, intrigued by the immediate comfort he felt with her. He certainly didn’t trust her but there was some deep familiarity that drew him in.

“Well, yes, a little bit. I am, if I might say so, quite the fucking catch.” She laughed and sat down on the sofa watching him as he strode towards her, his figure illuminating as he came closer to the light. “And you-” He began but she cut him off.

“I’ve already had a wedding - it didn’t take -” She said coldly, her lips still set in the same hazy smile, but the crazy was gone from her eyes “- and you’re married right? - several times over.” she finished, her gentle teasing replaced by clear and pointed repartee. His grin faded and his gaze flicked to her hands, her fingers slowly rubbed against her wrist where the chain had wrapped and wound itself up around her ring finger. He hummed to himself and let out a deep breath as he sat down beside her.

“I’m not sure either of those facts invalidate my proposal-” He watched as her fingers continued rubbing at her wrist, her skin began to pink under the repeated action. “-And I am definitely interested.” She watched him warily then looked back down to her hands, his broad hand reached out and covered hers, ceasing her assault on her wrist. She grew still beneath his touch and looked up at him. His hand was warm and heavy on her arm, like a weight pulling her back from the distant place her mind had wandered to. His voice was quiet and deep, layered with gravel and coated in honey.

“You take things.” her voice was flat, matter of fact, as her eyes locked with his. She took his hand in hers turning it over, her fingers sweeping across his rough palm. “You don’t see it that way.” Her gaze darkened “You feel like you’ve earned it.” She flung the accusation like a slap to the face. He chuckled and leaned forward a bit.

“Well you’ve got it all figured out don’t you?” His tone was clipped and despite his smirk and smarm she could hear the irritation in his voice at the accusation.

“No - but I’m starting to. I’ve-” She wavered, her lips thinning as she pressed them together taking a breath in. He felt a slight tremor in her grip as she held his hands in hers before she was able to speak again. “I’ve lost enough freedom - I won’t give any more of it to you.” She pulled her hands from his and her gaze grew confident again “You would - consume me.” The final words came slowly from her lips, letting the words form fully in her mouth before she let them out. He could feel the heat of her gaze, see the flame from the oil lamp reflected in her eyes, as the fiery defiance he’d witnessed in the field began to reappear.

“Okay,” He leaned back, draping his arm across the back of the sofa, watching her “Okay then.” He watched her for a moment, his other hand smoothing over his moustache then scratching thoughtfully at the scruff on his chin. “You’re right - I do take things - I do deserve them and sometimes it’s to prove a point. You have something wrong though -” he slid towards her on the couch, his arm wrapped around the cushion behind her, his other hand pressed into the plush leather beside her. His face darkened in her shadow as he came closer to her, stopping just inches from touching her.

“I would never - fucking- take anything - from - you.” Each word was like a square shove to her chest - forcing her to hear him. “There are some things you don’t _take._ That’s why I _asked_ you that question, it’s why I fuckin _asked_ you if you wanted to come here with me.” His gaze had grown hard and his voice cold, the syrupy suave exterior she’d seen up until now had finally melted away. There it was - there was the real Negan, not all of him but some of him. He was a monster but he was a monster she could someday understand, he was a monster with rules.

“You told me out there…” She tilted her head moving a fraction of an inch closer but he didn’t flinch “You told me you had a lot of rules.”

“I did.” He said in agreement, his voice low but moderately more amiable.

“I’ll learn them.” She said, as though finally allowing him some prize. He grinned and reached one hand up, brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear before trailing along her jawline as he pulled his hand back, one finger resting under her chin.

“You’ll learn them and follow them. Of course...you can decide not to - but I can guaran-goddamn-tee you - your shit will be seriously _fucked_ if you don’t play along. I’m not always a ‘second chance’ kind of guy”

“Not always?” She asked, her voice was soft, almost teasing now.

“Well it just depends on how generous I’m feeling.” He said his brows knitting together.   
  
“So second chances are for those who-”

“For those who keep my guns loaded, my dick wet, my stocks full, my people safe, and generally ensure that I keep this sexy ass grin on my face.” He said putting said-asset on display with a hazy lilt.

They sat like that for a moment, in tense silence, her chin perched on his fingertips, his large frame caging her against the end of the sofa. He watched as her body relaxed, the hostility ebbed from her gaze. She tilted her face upwards a lifting out of his grasp and, curious, he lowered his hand watching her carefully. She reached up resting her palm at the top of his chest, she left it there for a moment before her fingers crept and slid their way up his shoulder, finally resting at the crook of his neck. She leaned in her lips grazing his cheek as she moved in her gentle words reaching his ear like a hard-won surrender.

“I can help with some of those.”

He closed his eyes and let out a long satisfied sigh. She’d given him at least a piece of what he wanted, a small hint that she might play along. He felt her thumb brush along his throat as her hand slid back down his chest before her lips pressed against his cheek before she sat back. Her words were a submission but he could see she hadn’t handed herself over at all.

“Sweetheart - you scare the buhjeezus out of me.” He shook his head and looked back at her, a dark glimmer in his eye.

“Good.” She said softly watching her hand as it trailed at a glacial pace down his sternum towards his abdomen “Everyone else is scared of you - seems you need something to get your blood pumping too,”  
  
“Now that is the question - to be feared or to be loved?  Somethin’ like that? ” He asked with a grin, his voice softer, lower than before as he watched her slow movements. She hummed in agreement and her lips formed a small smirk before she tugged gently at his shirt then stood, moving back to the clothes shed been sorting through.    
  
“It may be answered that one should wish to be both.” She replied, her voice in rhythm as if reciting quotation. She reached around her back, tugging gently at the loose ribbons that kept the ruined gown in place “but, because it is difficult to unite them in one person, is much safer to be feared.”

“I like to think either can be appropriate” He broke into a wicked grin watching as she pulled the dress down off of her shoulders letting the loose fabric pool at her waist.

“Love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage.” She continued her recitation, pulling a tight black sports bra and large worn grey sweater on over her bare skin. She paused, shimmying out her remaining clothes, and stepping into fresh underwear and a pair of fitted black athletic pants in a sturdy fabric. She turned around and strode towards him once more. With her new clothes and the costume of her former oppression dead and shed to the floor she seemed somewhat reborn. When she spoke again  her tone had changed “You can’t trust someone who doesn’t truly have affection for you, who does not respect you, who doesn’t believe wholeheartedly in your cause, you cannot trust those who hate you.” She sat down on the coffee table in front of him.

“So should I trust you?” He let out a short laugh.

“No.” She said leaning forward “I’m far too independent and unpredictable to be trusted.” her lips formed a small knowing smile “And besides - I don’t trust you either.” his muscles tensed with anticipation she moved towards him, he felt his fingers itch to touch her, her hands pressed into his thighs sliding upwards. She was darkly damaged, beautifully manipulative, and precociously irritating. She had the eyes of an insane child, the statuesque curves of a queenly marble fresco, and sometimes when she spoke she had the tongue of a philosopher, of a politician or a classical villain. There was something about her that seemed to be created for this world, or maybe just for him. He’d keep her, he decided, if she was more trouble than she was worth, that could be fixed. He could always fix these things if he needed to. 

“Aw that’s too bad darlin, but I’d recommend it-” He murmured as she drew closer her knee, pressing into the soft leather between his thighs as she crawled from her place on the table “- it can come with a lot of sweet benefits.” he lingered on the ‘ee’ of sweet his voice a low rolling growl. He remained relaxed, his arms still resting on the back of the sofa, not touching her as she approached.

"I don’t give a shit about your special benefits.” she said gently, her gaze gliding over his features in casual examination. “But I’m very interested in…” She drifted off for a moment  “...All of this.”she finished, her finger making a lazy figure-eight through the air before slowing and landing at the tip of his scruffy chin. “So where do we start?”


	10. Feeding Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun Interlude - Mission:Fried Chicken

Dust kicked up around her as the wind took a cool heaving breath at the grit and debris on the forgotten country road. The hunter green pickup truck parked crossways across the road created a blockade. She stood in the center of the dusty path, a formidable figure on the wood lined road. This harder work outside the sanctuary, out in the wild, had given her the bronzed tan her grandfather’s bloodline had always promised but never delivered. She glowed with perspiration in the midday sun a single damp dark curl stuck to her cheek, her chest rising and falling in quick succession as she stared hard at her target, her shoulders tense, her body slightly crouched ready to attack. A flurry of feathers and dry grass and leaves whipped into the wind flying in her face sticking to her skin.    
  
“Gawwwddddddamnit!” she yelled, scooping up a rock and flinging it at the offending fowl, missing entirely.  She’d spent the past month or so working on this god-forsaken task, on a dumbass whim, from king dumbass himself. She cursed him silently, her task, the hot sun, and the fucking chickens. She couldn’t be too angry, she’d said yes, she’d decided to take his asinine request for fried chicken and up the ante to creating a new sustainable source of protein for the sanctuary. She built the coop, designed the grub farm to keep the chickens fed, all she needed was the birds. 

“Alright you motherfuckers.” She growled, pointing sternly at the scattered group of birds. “I’m taking you to a nice place, you’ll make eggs and maybe every once and awhile one of you will dissapear, but hey - it could be worse, you could be eaten by something else.” She reached down grabbing the net slowly crept towards the closest of the birds. She took a step and the winged beast hopped back a few paces and looked up staring at her blankly. She leaned in reaching her hand out and the bird hopped forward almost close enough to touch. She cooed, waving her fingers gently at the beady-eyed monster. The thing hopped forward once more and nipped hard at her index finger drawing blood.   
  
“Aw fuck you!” She hissed and jerked backward, pulling her bleeding finger to her lips. The ruffled russet bird made a loud cackling squawk and continued forward, strutting past her towards the pickup.  That asshole was laughing at her, she frowned at the offending avian, watching as it walked by. Her eyes widened as the thing jumped into the bed of the truck and nestled itself into the open straw-lined crate. Letting out a snort of derision, she shook her head in disbelief  “He’s going to like you.”


End file.
